Possessed No More: The True Star Returns to Claim Her Throne-Chapter 50: Teaching a Lesson

"Waaaah, boss, bosses, I’m begging you, please stop hitting me! I... I won’t do it again, I swear! I didn’t know Riley Perry was taken! If I had known, you could have beaten me to death and I still wouldn’t have dared to go after her."

Cole Sinclair’s men were all specially trained. They were extremely precise with their blows—they wouldn’t kill you, but they’d make you wish you were dead, and no one would be able to tell. You could call the cops, but there’d be no verifiable injuries.

Watching Raymond Warren cry like a pathetic coward, Samson Sinclair’s lips curled into a contemptuous smirk. "A piece of trash like you dares to fight our Young Master for a woman? You really don’t know your place!"

Raymond Warren cowered and shuffled backward, terrified that the fearsome man before him would beat him again. The pain was just too much. Besides, being surrounded by over twenty burly men in black suits was genuinely terrifying, okay?

"I won’t do it again! I really, really won’t! I just... I just didn’t know before! Otherwise, I would have stayed far, far away from her."

He had no idea who these people were, but he wasn’t an idiot. Anyone who rolled with twenty or thirty bodyguards was either in the mob or had a foot in both the underworld and legitimate society. He couldn’t fucking afford to cross them. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Fortunately, Samson Sinclair didn’t seem intent on hitting him again. "Remember what you said. If you dare get any funny ideas again, next time won’t be this easy. We’ll break all three of your legs to make sure you can’t get any more ideas!"

With a wave of his hand, two men dragged Raymond Warren out of the room.

The little assistant managed to escape the beating, but after being stuffed in a car trunk, he was scared out of his wits. At the time, he genuinely thought he was going to be thrown into the sea to feed the sharks. That night, he came down with a high fever that really took its toll.

Raymond Warren took himself straight to the hospital. He suspected his limbs were broken and his internal organs were damaged, because his entire body ached. He could barely even walk.

After more than an hour of fuss at the hospital, the test results showed nothing serious. But he really couldn’t move, so he had no choice but to check in. Lying in the hospital bed, he reflected on his recent string of bad luck. It seemed that ever since he started going after Riley Perry, he had been cursed—losing money, getting humiliated, and now, getting hurt!

’No, I can’t let this go on.’ Once he finished filming his scenes for *Starfire*, he would immediately return to Dragonspire. As for Riley Perry, if it really came down to it, he’d just have his uncle find someone else.

Having made his decision, Raymond Warren contacted "Big Mouth" again. This time, however, his attitude was atrocious. "Big Mouth, give me my money back right now! You’ve been tailing Riley Perry for ages and haven’t given me a single useful piece of information. I’m canceling the deal!"

Justin Locke: ...This was the first time since he entered the business that someone had asked him for a refund!

Oh, right. He forgot. He was Big Mouth right now.

"A refund? Listen, you surnamed Wang, why don’t you go ask around how I got my nickname? When has food that’s entered Big Mouth’s mouth ever been spat back out? Get lost. I’ve been working for you for days, and you expect me to do it for free? Go back to bed and keep dreaming!"

With that, Justin Locke hung up the phone.

’Some people... you can’t even give them a break, because they’re always rushing headfirst into their own doom!’

’And all he could do was go with the flow... and give him a little push on his way!’

His first call was to the manager of Raymond Warren’s rival, Victoria Koenig.

"Rival" wasn’t quite the right word. When that kid, Raymond, was debuting, he’d done plenty of dirty deeds. Originally, the center position in their group was supposed to go to Victoria Koenig. But Raymond wasn’t satisfied with that, so he hired trolls to smear Victoria online. In the end, the person who should have been the center only came in second on the group’s debut night, while Raymond Warren, who had always been second, took first place and debuted as the center.

Although the slander against Victoria Koenig was later cleared up, he came to hate Raymond Warren for relying on his family’s power and influence to hurt others so casually.

For the past two years, the two had been constantly fighting over resources, billing order, and endorsements—basically, over everything. But neither could ever deal a fatal blow to the other. Their fanbases were like mortal enemies, ready to go to war at the slightest provocation.

Victoria Koenig’s manager answered the phone quickly. He didn’t know who was calling, but his job required him to pick up immediately, lest he miss any opportunity. "Hello, who is this?"

"This is Justin Locke."

The manager was so scared he immediately covered the mouthpiece. ’Justin Locke. The number one paparazzo, Justin Locke! What good could possibly come from this guy calling me?’

"Victoria Koenig, get your ass over here right now!"

Victoria Koenig looked at his manager, completely baffled. He couldn’t understand why the man had broken into a cold sweat just from answering a phone call. "What’s wrong, Mr. Shephard?"

"Tell me what you’ve been up to lately!"

’He’s managed to attract the attention of the entertainment industry’s number one paparazzo. Does this kid have a death wish?’

The greatly wronged Victoria Koenig replied, "I haven’t done anything! You know me—I don’t smoke, drink, or gamble. I don’t even date! I’m completely focused on my career. You’ve been with me on all my gigs these past few days. What could I possibly have done behind your back?"

The manager wiped his forehead. ’That’s right. Victoria is a good kid; he’s very obedient. He couldn’t possibly have caused any trouble. Could it be that some other artist under my management got caught by the top paparazzo?’

"Mr. Locke, you’re not contacting me because one of my other artists got into trouble, are you?"

Justin Locke: "Don’t be nervous. I’m just selling some information. Since your artist is right there, you can ask him if he wants to buy it."

The manager hadn’t expected it really was Victoria who’d caused a problem. And the damn kid still wouldn’t admit it! He reached out and twisted Victoria’s ear a full circle. Victoria was in so much pain that sweat beaded on his temples, but he didn’t dare cry out.

"Mr. Locke, just tell me. How much? Our Little Vic is a good kid from a small town. It wasn’t easy for him to get this far. Please, please go easy on him..."

Justin Locke burst out laughing. "See? It’s a misunderstanding, isn’t it? I’m selling dirt on Raymond Warren. I was wondering if you two might be interested."

Victoria Koenig snatched his ear back, bent over, and pressed his face close to his manager’s phone. "Yes, yes, yes! Yes, yes, yes! Mr. Locke, I want it!"

An awkward silence fell.

His words could so easily be misunderstood.

The manager looked at his idiotic artist, his expression a complex mixture of emotions.

He reached out and shoved the pretty boy’s face far away. "Mr. Locke, don’t listen to him, he’s just talking nonsense. Our Little Vic might look successful these past two years, but he hasn’t actually earned much money. That information..."

"It’s proof that Raymond Warren sleeps with his fans. You don’t want that either?"

The manager swallowed hard and glanced at Victoria Koenig, who was staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. "How... how much?"

"Not much. Five hundred."

"Five million? Isn’t... isn’t that a little too expensive?"

Justin Locke tapped his fingers on the table twice. "It’s five hundred yuan. Per piece."

The manager was so excited he almost jumped. "Yes, yes, yes! We’ll take it, we’ll take it! Mr. Locke, we’ll take it all! It’s not just one piece, right? We’ll take as many as you have! When can you get us the information?"

’His artist was stuck as a third-tier celebrity all because of that bastard Raymond Warren. If he could crush him now, he was willing to be used by this top paparazzo!’

’As for whether his own words might cause a misunderstanding? Who cared!’